


As inhibitions fade

by salvatorestjohn



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Episode: s05e13 Total Eclipse of the Heart, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvatorestjohn/pseuds/salvatorestjohn
Summary: Then Enzo's reaching out, swiping the bottle back from him. He takes a drink without pause, tipping his head right back. The movement in his throat as he swallows makes it even harder for Damon to look away. The little pulse beneath his jaw is so steady, and that's definitely not helping. Or maybe it is.
Relationships: Damon Salvatore/Lorenzo "Enzo" St. John
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	As inhibitions fade

As soon as they walk into the Grill, Damon can feel eyes on him. Familiar, annoying little human eyes of a certain, annoying bartender that he still wishes he had killed for real when given the chance on multiple occasions. 

Even without looking at him, he knows he's got that narrowed, judgy look on his face. He swipes his thumb along his bottom lip, checking for any sign of Aaron's blood left behind. The taste is still lingering in his mouth; for such an annoying guy who came from a long line of assholes, it wasn't the worst he's had. Although, it was tainted by that distinct, crisp scent of fear that he hates. 

Enzo nudges his shoulder with his own, nodding his head toward the front of the bar with that sideways smirk on his lips. "Let's go see if we can charm the bartender into giving us a few bottles on the house, shall we?"

Damon flashes a grin and nods. They cross the room, taking seats on the stools directly in front of Matt. He doesn't even bother to try and hide his displeasure at the sight of them. Clearly that pretty little ring on his finger has given him a little too much confidence.

"What do you want?" Matt asks, skipping the typical polite manner as he finishes drying up the glass in his hand, twisting the towel. "If you're planning on trying to turn anyone in here into your dinner, I'd recommend finding a different bar. This one's off-limits."

"Isn't there some sort of rule about being nice to your customers?" Damon asks, leaning forward with narrowed eyes.

"Not if those customers are homicidal lunatics," Matt counters. He throws the towel over his shoulder, setting the glass somewhere behind the bar. 

Damon clenches his jaw, his mouth twisting in annoyance. There's a vein running right down Matt's neck, pushing up underneath the surface of his skin, blood pulsing through it. Warm, human blood that he could easily drain. Would do him more good than it would for Matt, really.

"We're just here for a few bottles of your finest alcohol," Enzo says before Damon can do anything. He glances behind Matt, his head tilting. "Something strong. Maybe scotch. Or bourbon, can never go wrong with a good bourbon. What would you suggest, love?"

Matt's displeasure grows at the last word being aimed at him. He shakes his head, that exasperated acceptance that they're not going to go away so easily clear on his face. Damon's pretty accustomed to it by now.

"I can't just give you more than one entire bottle, they could revoke the liquor license," Matt tells him. "Go to a liquor store. You'll have better luck there."

"I am literally willing to pay you," Enzo says with a slight shake of his head, his eyebrows drawing together. He gestures a hand vaguely. "I have money, you need money. I'm really not seeing the problem here."

Matt stares at him in disbelief, his eyes flicking to Damon almost questioningly. It's obvious that he isn't sure if Enzo is just being the typical non-caring vampire or if he is genuinely clueless about how things work. Damon's fairly certain it's the latter.

"Look, you know that we'll pay more than any of this stuff is worth," he says to Matt, inclining his head toward the shelves behind him. Leaning his elbow on the bar, he leans forward the tiniest bit more, raising his eyebrows. "The faster you serve us, the sooner we'll be out of here, and you'll get to stop worrying that big blonde head of yours about us killing anyone just because you refused to give us a couple of bottles of bourbon."

That vein on the side of his neck twitches. A smirk spreads across Damon's face as Matt's jaw tightens, his eyes moving between the two of them. Reluctantly, and with a roll of his eyes, he caves.

"Two of those ones," Damon says as he turns away from them to the shelves. "No, not that one—I'd rather not waste my money on something that tastes like it's part of Stefan's bunny diet. One to your right, the darker one. There we go."

He leans closer to Enzo as Matt grabs two of the bottles he pointed out.

"The cellar back home still has a few good choices as well," he says, pretending to lower his voice a few notches as if he's being discreet when in all honesty, he couldn't care less. "Just in case these don't live up to your fancy standards."

There's a quiet scoff from behind the bar and Damon catches another eye roll out of the corner of his own. Enzo just returns his smirk, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Me? You're the one with the _fancy standards_ , where everything has to be exactly to your taste." He eyes him pointedly, almost as if sizing him up. "I clearly have no such standards."

"Alright, if you're gonna insult me, at least pay for one of these."

Enzo's expression settles on smug, but he stills pulls out his wallet all the same. They pay for the bottles that Matt sets down on the bar. He accepts the few extra bills almost reluctantly, glancing from them to the bottles. Damon just gives a mocking wave as he and Enzo head out.

"I'm driving," Enzo decides, already moving around to the left side of Damon's car. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Damon asks, sceptical and, frankly, a little worried. He leans against the car, staring at him over the top. "You haven't exactly been behind a wheel since...well, for over seventy years."

"Driving can't have changed that much," Enzo scoffs. "It'll be good practice."

"Or really bad practice where you destroy my car."

Enzo stops now, staring across at him. "Do you really not trust me?"

"With my car? No," Damon answers without missing a beat. 

"You're so dramatic," Enzo says, shaking his head. "Look, I promise, I will be careful, alright? Besides, you have a corpse in your trunk. Do you really want to be in the driver's seat if we get pulled over?"

Damon considers it, and still, his answer is a firm no to anyone but him driving his car. He could easily find a way to convince Liz it's not that big of an issue anyway. He's done it before, he's sure he can find a way around it again. Even if that corpse is a twenty-one-year-old college student that she may have seen on campus while visiting Caroline. 

But Enzo's looking at him with that tilt to his head and the raised eyebrows. It's the slight twitch of a smile, right at the corners, that pushes him over the edge and he rolls his eyes, groaning loudly.

"Fine," he says and digs his hand into his pocket to retrieve his keys. 

He tosses them over the car and Enzo catches them easily, his hand a blur for a split second. His face has already lit up, and Damon can't help but think that an easily repaired dent or two is worth his excitement. Gotta get him back on the road sometime, right? It was inevitable. The sooner, the better.

"But if you accidentally blow us up or drive us off a cliff, I will kill you on the other side," Damon adds in warning, pointing a finger at him as he opens the passenger door. 

Enzo just shoots him a smirk that really does nothing to convince him anything good can come of this and slides into the driver's seat. Damon follows suit. Part of him is really hoping Enzo isn't secretly still holding a grudge against him. Otherwise, this drive isn't going to be all that fun. 

Thankfully, though, it's surprisingly alright. He doesn't hit anyone, nor does he crash into anything. Though he does veer slightly off the road at certain points. Damon's already got the first bottle open, passing it to Enzo to swipe a quick drink. Considering their supernaturally high tolerance for all things alcohol, he's not worried about the consequences.

At least until it comes time to stop once they reach the house. 

"Brake," Damon says with a chuckle, watching him speed up the path, through the open gates a little too fast. "Enzo! Hit the brakes."

Enzo glances down, but the car only speeds up. He laughs as they fly up the driveway, his eyes widening. Damon can't help but laugh along with him, even as the car veers again, Enzo's hands pulling at the steering wheel. Another warning's about to come from Damon as he sees the foyer quickly getting closer, then Enzo swerves at the last second. They miss the wall and go straight up the stairs and come to an abrupt hall that nearly sends them both flying into the windshield. 

Damon huffs out a breath. He takes a moment, a beat passing. Then Enzo's laughing again. He glances over at him, and Damon rolls his eyes, but he's grinning like he's just gotten the biggest adrenaline rush in his life. 

"Not bad for someone who hasn't been behind a wheel in seventy years, eh?" Enzo says humourlessly. 

Damon scoffs and shakes his head, but he caves and says, "It could have been worse. Though, maybe next time, try not to nearly crash us into the damn foyer, would you?"

"Does this mean you'll trust me with your precious car again?" Enzo asks, grinning.

Damon doesn't answer, getting out of the car. Walking into the house, he pauses in the middle of the foyer. He turns his head left, then right, then up, staring at the ceiling as he listens, pushing past the sounds of Enzo discarding the two empty bottles somewhere behind him. Silence. 

"No Stefan," he says, his mouth quirking up as he turns back to face Enzo. "It seems we have the house all to ourselves. I wonder what we could possibly get up to. Any suggestions?"

Enzo returns his smirk with clear delight.

"What are we thinking?" Enzo steps forward and glances around as if to double-check. "Party while the little brother's out?" He throws a glance at him over his shoulder, his smirk growing. "Or do you have a quieter idea?"

"Oh, not in the slightest," Damon answers without missing a beat. "The louder, the better. Though I am thinking we keep it strictly two-people. No messy drama, no possible party-crashers, and no drunken idiots passing out in the kitchen. Just us. It'll be fun."

Something flickers in Enzo's eyes, dark and glinting. Intrigue. His lips part, his tongue pushing at his lower lip. Damon almost thinks his gaze flicks over him for a split second before returning to meet his eyes. 

Tilting his head up, Enzo nods once. "I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do," Damon drawls as he walks past him. "You're not exactly a people person."

"That's because I'm not a person," Enzo counters plainly, following after him. "In case you've forgotten, I am a vampire. As are you. I eat people, why would I want to sit in a room with them if I don't get to eat them?"

Damon pauses, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Yeah, okay, we'll work on that."

Turning back around, he crosses the room, stopping by the table holding the left-out bottles of bourbon and the one scotch that he acquired from his trip to Scotland in the 80s. Ignoring the Jack Daniels with mild disgust—clearly Stefan has been by at least long enough to pour himself a drink—he grabs two untouched glasses, setting them down in front of him as he swipes one of the bottles to scan over the label.

"How about..." Enzo sidles up next to him, a hand gently pressing against Damon's back as he gives him a slow, coy smile, "...we don't work on anything. For now, let's just have fun. You know, like all those conversations we had about what we would do when we got free. Excluding the murder, I think we may have filled our quota for the night with that Whitmore boy."

Damon throws another glance at him over his shoulder. Admittedly, the suggestion sounds pretty good. Not thinking about anything else. And he certainly remembers a few parts of those long-ago talks they had. Attempting to play out their ideas through vampire mind connection was fun, but took a lot of energy and only lasted so long with what little blood they were surviving on. But now...

A smirk twists across his lips, pouring the two glasses out. He hands one to Enzo. 

"In that case."

He backs away, and Enzo raises an eyebrow at him in confusion, but it turns to realization as he points at the stereo in the corner of the room, tucked away with a stack of CDs. It's mostly Stefan's, but he hasn't touched the thing in years and half of the CDs in the house belong to Damon anyway. 

Apparently, Stefan's been too caught up in his brooding, and attempting to maintain a bunny-diet, and being all sappy and in love to bother letting loose and having some fun. Real fun. With music, and partying of a nature that doesn't involve red plastic cups and bonfires as they all try and keep it a secret from their parents because it's a school night. Oh, how Damon does not envy teenagers in this century. 

He winces at the sight of the Bon Jovi CD at the top of Stefan's collection. It's not the only one either, just the most damaging in terms of Damon's respect for his taste in music. Not that he had much to begin with. It's Lexi's fault, he's sure. That damn concert and whatever the hell else happened that night with Bon Jovi that he does not want to know about.

Turning to his own collection, he scans through them, dragging a finger down the cases. It's a good thing he was never much of a country or a pop fan, he thinks, glad not to see Patsy Cline's name anywhere in sight as the tune plays in the back of his head at the thought. He quickly picks a classic—Beggar's Banquet from '68, with some of the Rolling Stones' best songs, in his own opinion—and slips the disc into the stereo, hitting play. 

The first beats of Sympathy for the Devil play faintly. Damon turns the volume right up and turns back around, met with Enzo's broad grin of delight. Clearly even captivity can't stop people from enjoying good music. Another little confirmation for Damon that Enzo is meant to be in his life; anyone who likes the Stones gets to stay. 

Downing his glass, Enzo then spreads his arms and says, "Looks like we're going to be breaking open another bottle."

Damon tips the rest of his own down his throat and agrees. They finish the first, and then a second, and by that point, they're a little tipsy. Any lingering doubt is long gone by the chorus of Street Fighting Man, which Enzo decides he's getting bored of and switches out for Queen's News of the World. 

Everything is _good_. The music is loud and the bourbon is old. They half-dance, half-vamp around the room, up to the edge of the railing on the second floor. Lamps are knocked over, a chair accidentally broken, though Damon doesn't really see how. He doesn't care when he drops a half-empty bottle, shattering and spilling all over the floor. He glances at it, then looks up at Enzo and shrugs.

"Whoops. Too bad. I was enjoying that."

Enzo offers the one in his hand in its place and Damon happily accepts. As he takes a swig of it, his eyes stay fixed on Enzo, watching him, having barely faltered in his dancing. There's something so entrancing about him. Damon almost doesn't want to look away. 

Then Enzo's reaching out, swiping the bottle back from him. He takes a drink without pause, tipping his head right back. The movement in his throat as he swallows makes it even harder for Damon to look away. The little pulse beneath his jaw is so steady, and that's definitely not helping. Or maybe it is.

Enzo's just barely lowering the bottle when Damon moves. He's got a hand on the back of his neck and is drawing him in, kissing him hard in the blink of an eye. Enzo's eyes flicker open for a second, all movements halting in surprise. Then he relaxes into Damon's touch and his eyes close as he angles his head and kisses him right back.

A spark lights in his chest, burning through him and spreading like a fire. For the second time in one night, he finds his mind crystal clear. On what he wants, on everything. He hears something smash but doesn't bother to check on it. The taste of alcohol and a faint trace of blood on Enzo's lips is distracting, and the way he's kissing him is telling him he's feeling the same way.

Their control gets a little more lost. Enzo presses forward, Damon's back hits the wall on the other side of the room with a splintering sound in tow. There's the crunch of glass beneath their feet. The table gets knocked a couple inches out of the way when they move again, bottles falling over, more hitting the ground and cracking. They falter for just a moment of staggered breath before Damon ends up pinning Enzo to the other wall. 

He hears something shift above them. They break apart to look up. The weird painting that belonged to Joseph Salvatore is now swaying against the wall rather precariously as if about to fall. They hold for just a second, but it stops and stays in place, which is now an odd angle with the man in it staring sideways at the fireplace. 

Enzo snickers, and Damon grins, dropping his gaze back down to him. 

"Your little brother's going to hate me even more, you know," Enzo says, but doesn't sound too concerned. 

"What, do you want the family approval?" Damon jokes, already leaning back in. He pauses a couple inches off to glance up at the painting again and roll his eyes. "It's ugly anyway. Looks better now. He'll be thanking us for redecorating."

He cuts Enzo off mid-laugh, the rest of it pressed into his mouth in a low hum of approval. Damon's hands move to his chest, curling into the front of his jacket. Pulling him back, they move, at a normal, human speed. For a brief moment. Before Damon tugs, and then his legs somehow hit the couch that was definitely not that close. One of the cushions is already displaced, but neither of them pays it any mind, already pressing down onto it.

Enzo hovers over him, mouths still moving with Damon's hands sliding down. He slips them under the hem of Enzo's shirt, and a second later, it's being pulled off. He grins and surges back up, fingers sliding into his hair. The little hum Enzo gives as he works on Damon's belt feeds the flames burning through him, and everything just makes more sense tonight than anything else has in his life. Even if it's the alcohol talking, which he's sure it's not. Enzo makes sense. 

They don't pay any mind to the mess around them, or the possibility of Stefan coming back at some point. Five plus fifty-six years of waiting mixed with the high of feeding on someone and a whole load of alcohol throws everything out of the window. Fortunately, they're not interrupted once the rest of the night.

Eventually, that energy that's broken almost every bottle in the room and sent the couch a few feet off the mark starts to wind out. Damon's more than happy to pass out on the couch. He's sure Enzo's somewhere beside him, his heart beating steadily in his ears and a weight half-pressing against his right side. _Crystal clear,_ he thinks before he really does pass out at last, already knowing that he's going to have a mess to fix in the morning. But Enzo's not part of that mess. He's the one thing he's sure about right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Expanding on my tags: Look, okay, we all know this is almost exactly what happened in that episode. We saw the living room when Stefan walked in the next morning. Bottles broken, paintings askew, couch completely messed up. You expect me to believe that he actually invited other people over? Nah. Enzo was his only company, and they wrecked that house together, and it's pretty obvious how they did it. There is no other explanation, thank you for coming!


End file.
